


Now That I Know You

by TracedViolet



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Autistic Shizuo, Borderline Personality Disorder Izaya, Broken Bones, Enemies to Friends, Hospitalization, M/M, Mentions of Psych Wards, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracedViolet/pseuds/TracedViolet
Summary: Ikebukuro could be a dangerous place if you didn't know your way around.  One could find all manner of scandalous and dark creatures lurking in the shadowed corners and back alleyways, human and demon alike.  Of course, knowing these places to avoid meant one could go about their lives with little to no incident. On the other hand, it also meant if you wanted to go looking for trouble, you knew where to find it.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In the middle of a psychotic episode, Izaya goes out in search of trouble in the form of Shizuo Heiwajima.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an RP I was doing with a friend but we since lost touch. It was supposed to be much longer than this and eventually be an enemies to lovers fic but obviously we didnt get that far. Chapter lengths vary because I broke them up by narative relevance instead of word count. please enjoy.

Izaya's gate is wrong. It's too slow to have such a manic bounce to it. His posture is wrong too. The slack slouch of his shoulders leaning slightly forward doesn't line up with the twitching smirk stretching not quite far enough across his face. The sharpness of his eyes focus on nothing and yet they are acutely aware of everything at the same time. He was a character the less savory of the shadow lurkers even seemed to avoid. Not that he paid them any mind anyway.

(Time to die.)

There's no clear subject to the thought, perhaps it was a particular person, perhaps the entire world, perhaps himself. There's too much static to make it out. Only one thing is clear cut, fill the void. This empty aching need for something, anything. It felt like screaming; endless torture. His thumb is pressing into the edge of an overused blade and over a newly formed scar from previous encounters. There's this echo of words that keeps screeching through his mind while he tries to quiet their roar at the tip of a knife. 

(Stop!!! Suffer!!!) 

They’re just echoes of coherent thought. Nothing makes much sense anymore, but he hasn't the facilities left to stop the chaos. 

(Fill the void. Pain. End. Bleed. Searching. searching. searching. Find it. There's something waiting. Find it. Fill the gap.) 

Laughter escapes him as he continues on the subconscious psychotic path he's laid out for self destruction. What's the point anyway. 

(Point? Point? There's always a point. What's your point? Waste. You knew. You knew before. You should have known. Stop.)

The laughter cracks against the stone walls shattering into a thousand broken pieces. It's like a wretched beckoning. 

(Come monster. Come play on this hunting ground you've banished me from. Everyone has banished me from. Suffer.)

Manic chuckles fall into too heavy breathing as he reaches the end of the alley. The off center smile stretching further as his head tilts back and to the side just enough to offer a taunt as he finally sees what he's been searching for. “Yahtzee.”

Shizuo perks up at the sound of the laughter, a familiar yet equally sickening sound. A laugh he wishes he could forget existed in the throat of any real person, yet every so often it bubbled back into his brain to destroy whatever happiness managed to grow there. Like a disease he just can't cure, the vile being keeps infecting his life and his home in this city. No matter where he goes or what he does that thing follows to cause chaos and misery for nothing but its own amusement. 

Shizuo stops where he stands under the dim light of the street lamp, searching the sea of blackness for the creature who made him hear such a disgusting sound. "Izaaayaaa." It starts off as a low growl. A warning to no one but himself that the gate keeping his anger back was about to break. His muscles twitch with anticipation, wanting to punch something, anything, even just the empty air so he could knock the revolting sound right out of it. How DARE the flea show his ugly face here again. How DARE he laugh at all the pain and suffering he's caused the people of ikebukuro. Shizuo had not the slightest inkling what Izaya had done this time but that laughter, that hideous, nauseating laughter, awakened something deep in Shizuo that went far beyond logic. It was his moral duty to destroy the thing that made it. 

"IZAAAAYAAAA!!!!" The growl escalates quickly into a roar as he spears his cigarette into the concrete, crushing it under his shoe as he takes off in the direction of the sound. His body moves far faster than his brain, pulling him towards the true source of all misery and despair. All things humanity had ever suffered. His hand hooks a signpost on the way and rips it straight out of the ground with all the ease of a monster himself. Tonight he would be a monster. Tonight he would kill. This game had dragged on long enough so Tonight? Tonight he was going to absolutely totally and completely murder that piece of garbage once and for all, if it was the last thing he ever did.

There's a cocky huff that only Izaya can hear signifying his glee. 

(Yes. Come. Worthless. Be quiet! Stop. Stop. Stop.)

Izaya pivots as he drops his head to smile through the mess of his raven bangs. That smile still surgically stitched across the gape of his face. It was an unsettling type of grin. The type of grin that would welcome obliteration. His name, he heard his name.

( Yes. My name.)

There's a moment when he remembers who that person was, but it's gone just as quickly. Leaving nothing but a foggy swirl of muddled chaos in its wake. 

(What is it you desire? Destroy. Repair. Stop. Never. Wake up. wake up. Stop.)   
There's no room for a complete thought, just feelings that can't be articulated into words. Another shriveled, tainted chuckle exits his mouth, it tastes like iron. He's not sure when the blade in his pocket made it to prod at his lips. the pain never registered, but there it was. It only added to the ominous unsteady air around him. The flea’s head is still tilted down, he hasn't moved from the spot. Waiting for the onslaught. Waiting for something. Anything. 

(More. Give. Want. Need. Die. Suffer.)

Again, his body has moved without instruction and he's tearing down the path towards his predator, friendless and alone. 

(Release.) 

Surely the demon could stop it. This beast, this monster. 

(stop. No more. No. MORE.) 

At the sight of Izaya, Shizuo hesitates. His foot catching on a dip in the asphalt, lurching him forward awkwardly into a beastly stance. He doesn't take much notice of his body, his mind is elsewhere, swirling with awful ideas on how to dismantle the flea. Rip his limbs from their sockets and pulverize his brains. The end of the metal sign hits the ground with a clang, ringing off the brick walls like a bell starting the fight. But something was off. Shizuo's gaze is locked fiercely with Izaya's, trying to study him, get anything out of his twisted face, but all he comes up with is that something is very wrong. 

The night air becomes stagnant, freezing the scene like a picture. This wasn't like how their fights usually start. What? No comment? No snark? No condescending banter? Shizuo wonders if the flea has suddenly forgotten how to speak, but he can see words falling out of his mouth like they weren't meant to. 

(Is that blood?)

like he wasn't aware he was making them.

(That's definitely blood.) 

Izaya's eyes seem glazed over and distant. The stare sends a shiver up shizuo spine, making him grip the metal pole just a little tighter. He wasn't going to show any sort of weakness to the king of all ikebukero's scum, but something just didn't sit right with him. Something so dark and awful, it wasn't even fit for a flea.

Izaya doesn't stop when Shizuo does. Why? Why stop? The frustration feels like a firing squad pulling the trigger at sanity. This isn't right! Ignite the fumes of hatred.  
“What's this? Has your protozoan brain finally run out of usable cells?” It's a twitchy taunt, it's missing the witty edge that it usually cuts with. He's still coming closer, faster than he can process. 

(Get closer. Fight. Release. Fill. Stop.) 

It only takes seconds to be face to face with the fortissimo of Ikebukuro, at which point he pauses only inches away to tip the edge of the blade in the opposite direction. “Lost your edge have you monster?” 

(Expel me. Do it. Do it now.)

There's thunder overhead as the sky and their surroundings light up as if the heavens themselves knew the weight of the two powers about to collide. Some doomful precursor to perilous and unavoidable events. Izaya's only a few feet away, easily within swinging distance. He's standing there hood up in the quickening rain, knife haphazardly pointed at Shizuo. It's almost like the informant's attention is somewhere else completely. 

(No one will miss you anyway. Shut up. You knew. You knew and you still fell for it. Hahaha! Idiot. Stop! Go die. No… more… )

there's a tremor in his outstretched arm that doesn't register in his head. In fact, it almost seems like Izaya is completely unaware of his own presence at all. Usually so poised, ever inch of his countenance perfectly selected for maximum presentation. No, not now. It's awkward and shaky. The dip of his head, the slack in his shoulders, the too loose jacket, even his breath is lacking any sort of control. It's as if gravity itself is 10 times heavier where the raven stands. It's more like a rabid coyote than the normal precision of a predatory cat. It's exciting and chaotic and yet somehow already dead. 

(Fight...me… fight me… fiiiight me!!)

There's a very visible twitch that takes over his neck and shoulder as he tries to fight off the rising urge to plunge the point at his own flesh just to stop the defining static taunts of his own conscience. Death is too good for you. 

There is something far less composed about Izaya now. Even Shizuo can tell. The way he teeters back and forth like an off kiltered puppet, conducted by an invisible drunk. The closer he wanders into the light, the sicker he looks. weak and pale. like a fleeting ghost of his former self. when his fingers come out to point the shaky knife at Shizuo's face, something in shizuo snaps back into action. How dare something so vile come so close to him. He instinctively seizes the flea's outstretched arm to regain control over the situation.

(Jesus! Was he always this small?)  
the oversized jacket did an outstanding job at concealing how thin the body inside it was. Shizuo's hand wrapped all the way around what should have been a meatier part of Izaya's arm in a way that shouldn't have been humanly possible. He felt a little ill at the thought of being so thin. How could anyone let themselves dissolve into this? it was just bone. It would be so easy to snap it. 

(DO IT!)

But something holds Shizuo back. 

(DO IT! DO IT! NOW!) 

Were his morals starting to grow back with the shock of Izaya's dishevelment? Absolutely not. Shizuo pushes the thought from his mind. Choosing to ignore his conscience in favor of lifting the flea straight off his feet to dangle in front of Shizuo's face, close enough to feel the heat of his breath as he barks "SHUT UP!!" 

But as loud as the words are they don't seem to sink in as Izaya keeps mumbling. 

"HEY!! ARE YOU LISTENING FLEA??" The words are a little contradictory but Shizuo doesn't notice. His primary goal is to simply force Izaya back into his usual act by yelling and shaking him violently like a toy until he complies. The beating wouldn't be warranted unless Izaya fought back or at the very least ran away but he wasn't doing anything at all. That's what made Shizuo the angriest.

There's this agonizing interfusion of elation and terror in Izaya's head. His basic survival instinct shrieking “danger!” but the disarray of thought process begs for release both with equally crushing compulsion. He hasn't the speed of reflex to dodge the hands grasping at him and is captured far too easily, or some part of him wanted to get caught, not that he could figure it out if he wanted to. 

As he tries to twist his arm enough to stab and his opponent the info broker is suddenly shaken around like a rag doll. The onslaught hard enough to jar his head around sending his head reeling into a dizzying fuzz. His eyes roll. Everything is quiet in the moment, ecstasy. A hollow exhale tries to vocalize as a chuckle but it comes up short and breathless; cut off by some subconscious sob for release. It's just a crackle of too many broken and mixed emotions trapped in a war that none of them can win. The rain is already soaking into the bones that have been struggling to stay warm under sunlit skies. The flea is detached from his body though, so despite the shudder of the creeping shivers his head tips back up to eye Shizuo with pointed mallace. The razor's edge of his signature smirk dulled by the infiltration of an endless pit of self deprecating solace. He doesn't know that he's lost the facade he spent a lifetime crafting. So Izaya offers his bereaved taunt as though nothing is wrong, “you seem to have misplaced your weapon.”. At least it should have been a taunt, not the twisted plea for death that the words would suggest. He hasn't the strength to shove his knife more than a quarter inch into the demonic body in front of him, but hopefully it was still enough to force the blond to the usual conviction to alleviate the world from Izaya's existence.

Shizuo doesn't need a weapon. He is one. Why would Izaya even ask that question? He was literally holding a stop sign in his other hand. Izaya was really starting to rub him the wrong way, not so much anger now as it is frustration and confusion at his odd demeanor. 

"Why're you lookin at me like that?!" Shizuo demands. The stare he's receiving is so cold and absent it's like some hollow god is being channeled through Izaya to curse Shizuo. He doesn't understand it and it makes him mad. The flea looks more like a drowned cat than a man in his heavy fur coat drenched to his tiny body. A pathetic image to say the least, but not entirely degrading because it only seems to add to his insanity. The wicked twinkle of no sense left swirls in Izaya's eyes and after staring at them for a while Shizuo starts to piece things together. 

"what's wrong with you!? Huh!?!" He shakes the flea again for emphasis. It wasn't like he really expected Izaya to answer directly, but at least acknowledging he was aware of the bizarre behavior might trigger Izaya to give something away. Some sort of insight as to what's going on. Let something slip by accident that Shizuo could use later when he had the time to think about it. Izaya throws his arm down and Shizuo feels a pinch followed by something warm. he looks down to see the knife now sunk into his shoulder. 

(That's....... not right.....)

he thinks, before dropping the flea to rip it out. He didn't even try did he. It barely sunk in at all. How annoying. This was one of the few un-torn shirts Shizuo had left and Izaya just had to go ruin another one. The sting of the wound was nothing compared to the electricity buzzing through Shizuo's body for someone daring to touch him. He didn't agree to being stabbed. It was unwarranted, unwanted, and unacceptable. A growl starts to grow from his chest.   
(KILL KILL KILL)

it aggravates the wound, which only makes Shizuo angrier. 

(KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL)

He tosses the knife behind him so the flea can't grab it, then looks up with a face of unbridled rage.

(KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL) 

"YOU BASTARD!!!!" He roars, reeling his fist back and slamming it into the flea's chest with reckless brutality, smashing him into the asphalt with a disgusting crack. Anyone else would have stopped there but Izaya hadn't picked his death match with just anyone, he chose Shizuo Heiwajima.

The informant teeters a moment upon being dropped like a discarded shoe, off kilter grin still cemented in place. The drop was enough distance to lose his grip on his favored weapon, not that he seemed bothered by the fact in the slightest. Almost like it didn't even register that he was rendered defenseless, or didn't care that he was. He watched in distant fascination as the blonds brain slowly caught up to what had just happened. Slow, as usual. Hurry up. Tick tock tick tock. He could see the bar of the internal rage gage rising. 

(Good. Faster. Burn. )

There's a slip in his consciousness that breaks the attempt at a calm demeanor. It shatters into unhinged rejoicing. The edges of the cracked laughter that tried to spill out are cut short when the air is literally crushed from his lungs. Izaya doesn't register the pain, just the lack of oxygen and the taste of iron. 

(Good. Bleed.)

An internal plea at his own existence. Bleed more. Bleed till there's nothing. Make it stop. Misplaced laughter chokes it way back out in sputters before his body catches up with his brain. It hurts so good. Physical pain was a brief vacation from the mental froth of indescribable emotions and thoughts. He tries to retaliate, push the demon further, but his limbs won't listen to the commands. So instead he spits blood and venom, “That's better.” It doesn't come out nearly as threatening as intended. It couldn't, not between broken bones and liquid red drizzles. 

On top of the absence of the air required to drown the words in the adequate disdain. Not that the disdain was there, not the usual kind. This was just bitter envy. The need for vengeance rekindling its blinding fire when he manages to latch on to some memory. 

(That's right. Suffer. You can kill me, but I'm taking your soul with me to hell.)

“You're not his friend either you know.”. Izaya spits between the punches, vindictive and hateful. 

(Jealousy. Jealousy. it's not fair!)

He's not aware that his statements are totally out of context. Somewhere in his head it all makes sense. It's all moving too fast. It should make sense. It's obvious. There's no explanation needed. It's the one thing that's been seething through his head for months like the reaper himself. Even without air he manages to verbally stab at what he thinks is something. It's something to him, the only thing. It must be something to everyone else right? Right?!! 

“You're just a science project waiting to happen.” 

(I'll take everything away from you too.)

“Go ahead.” There's a too long pause studded with staggered breathing and uncontrollable half attempts for his lungs to clear themselves. A pause like his brain has gone somewhere else again. “Go ahead.” The second far less of a taunt and more like an unconscious prayer that wasn't meant to be said out loud. 

"What are you talking about?!" Shizuo wants to reply, as he recalls a moment earlier when his plan was to beat this kind of information out of the flea to see why he was acting so strange. But the way Izaya speaks with such grandiose purpose and importance when everyone else in the world must suffer under his self entitled reign, The sound of his voice, it's like nails being shot up into Shizuo's brain. "SHUT UP!!" Is what actually comes out, along with yet another punch, this time to Izaya's face. His fists buzz with a comforting pain, his muscles twitch with anticipation of more. Shizuo doesn't want to think about how good this makes him feel, but it does. It feels so very good to beat the ever living shit out Izaya's frail little body. It feels good to hurt him for all the hurt he's caused. It feels good to hurt himself in the process. Anything to make that frustrating feeling go away. right? And if it's Izaya then it's ok. right? I mean he deserves it after all, right? RIGHT??

Wrong. There's something wrong about this. Perhaps it's the way Izaya looks as he's gasping for air in between laughing and coughing up blood. Perhaps it's the split second of fear that crosses his face that Shizuo doesn't actually register as an emotion and instead just the red flag that he's been trying to train himself to mean "STOP!" 

Stop?? Now?? But it's the flea!! He's done nothing but cause pain and suffering to the people of Ikebukuro! But someone could say the same for Shizuo couldn't they? Shizuo's arm freezes in place, unable to move in the midst of his cognitive dissonance. Izaya's a monster who doesn't have feelings! 

(KILL HIM!! KILL!!!) 

Your a monster who has no feelings. They might as well kill you. 

(KILL! DIE!)

The hand that had let go of the street sign to hold izaya down tightens around his arm unconsciously and Shizuo hears a loud snap. It was too loud to be anything but a bone, but it just seemed too easy to break it. Shizuo's body wants to feel good about it, but his brain doesn't like it at all. It's all starting to catch up to him. Slowly but surely Izaya's words seep in. 

(You're not his friend either you know)

what friend?? Who?? 

(You're just a science project waiting to happen.)   
science project? Wait..... Shinra? Was he talking about Shinra? The idea of being a science experiment to the delusional doctor jogged Shizuo's memory. He remembered being asked if he'd oblige to being dissected to see how his monster of a body worked. He remembered not answering that question. But what did any of that have to do with what was happening now?

"WHAT DOES SHINRA HAVE TO DO WITH THIS??" He doesn't let go of Izaya. He doesn't lower his fist. He just sits there. Like a frozen angry statue, a threat in and of himself for the flea to answer or else.

Static. Static and numb. Everything is fuzzy and dark. He felt the impact to his face, but can't figure out exactly where the blow landed. It's like a thick fog just swallowed his mind. There's just this heavy empty foreboding silence. A lopsided grin twitches itself onto his lips. It's quiet. Elation. A strangled shuddering sigh skips out between slow blinks and silent manic laughter. Release and revenge at the same time. What more could he want? Yes. 

“Monster.” is the only part of the thought that sputters out, but the accusation is laced with much more.

(You're one too. I'll make you one. They'll hate you too. If I can't kill your body, I'll kill your livelihood.)

Izaya's half lucid awareness is caught off guard though. One word. One out of place word.   
(Stop? What? No! Why? Don't stop!)

He can't focus enough to read the twisted emotions playing across the face above him. The flea feels like he's missing something, but it's ok. It's ok. it's tempting to let the fleeting tethers to the waking world snap. It would be nice, but the fact that the beast has paused his assault is too concerning. This wasn't part of the malformed plan he'd had in mind. Ever frustrating and unpredictable this man was. How disgusting. 

Shizuo's asking questions that sound like they're miles away from Izaya. Stupid questions. Of course. At least the ridiculous volume of Shizuo's voice could cut through the fog enough to hold the Raven's attention and attachment to consciousness. He's not sure if it actually happens or if it's in his head, but there's this hazy vision of his own hand lifting to smear warm liquid crimson down the side of his arch enemies face with a touch drenched in the irony of the softness of a lover. That crooked grin stretching to a full, yet completely detached smile. Still slowly, featherlight, dragging his fingers over the face he's still not sure is actually there as though they were his eyes instead. “Disappointing…..” 

Maybe somewhere in the darkest most hidden corners of his blackened soul Izaya had hoped there would be some salvation here. Death would suffice. He can't keep his hand up any longer and it falls slack like a rock dropping through nothing but air while the internal fight between survival and acceptance causes his eyelids to dip lower for longer. Everything feels heavy and far away and so so hard. 

Shizuo's face freezes as the warm liquid is indolently drawn across his face. As disturbingly tender as the gesture was, the purpose sinks in quite quickly. Shizuo feels marked, branded as the one who did this. The one who tried to murder lzaya in his weakest form. Sure, Izaya picked the fight, but wasn't Shizuo complaining to himself earlier that it wasn't fair unless the flea fought back? Or tried to run? Or anything? Truly anything but just lie down and die like this. Was that his plan? Did he want this? No. It couldn't be. Izaya was smarter than that. He was leagues above Shizuo in intelligence. He made that very clear anytime they fought and no reasonable human being would want to die. So why? Why give in to Shizuo's uncontrollable rampage like this?

("Disappointing.....")

The word rang inside Shizuo's mind, repeating over and over until he could decipher its purpose. Disappointing? Izaya found this fight disappointing? What on earth had he been expecting!? Fireworks!!?!! A parade??? 

("Disappointing.....")

What more could he have wanted out of picking a fight with the brute unless it was death? 

("Disappointing.....")

Was this death disappointing to him? Was this state not what he wished to be? Or was it exactly what he wished and he had hoped it would have gone on longer? Shizuo had earlier when he found how easy it was to thrash him around like the world's most depressing doll. 

("Disappointing.....")

Izaya had used his final breath to let Shizuo know that he hadn't measured up. Not even doing a decent job of murdering the piece of garbage. 

"FUCK!" Shizuo thinks. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" This violent encounter didn't go anything like he had expected either. To be quite honest he hadn't expected much of anything to come of it, but of all the things that usually happened in their crossing of paths, he certainly didn't expect to be sitting in the rain over a limp bleeding body with a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach, a disgusting pit of guilt for beating Izaya to death. Or just close to death? Was he even dead? 

Shizuo leans in and tries to halt his ragged breathing enough to hear if Izaya has any himself. There's a slow gurgling sound rumbling from the chest of the flea. It's gross and wrong and not at all sustainable. "Fuck" Shizuo's mantra leaks out if his mouth as he tries to figure out what to do. "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!" This wasn't doing anything to help the situation, so Shizuo lets go of the body beneath him and stands up. It's even worse from this angle because he can see how far the pool of blood had spread, and that in his haste to crush the cockroaches face he had crushed Izaya's leg as well. "FUCK!!" He yells to no one. His voice echoes down the alley to no one. And no one would ever notice Izaya if Shizuo didn't do something. 

(Enough! Stop wallowing in self guilt! You don't want to be the monster they say you are? Help him!)

And with that thought, Shizuo scoops up the limp, body of a dying man and carries him off to the only doctor he knows.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheltered from the rain inside an apartment not too far from the battle of the strangest pair of monsters in Ikebukuro, a man and a headless fairy bicker over nothing. They are completely oblivious to the events of the world. It's a petty argument. She's insisting her lover is only complimenting her cooking because it's her. He's trying to persuade her otherwise. Simple things of simple human lives which were ironically still far from average. If it weren't for the absence of a head and the ridiculous lab coat, the two may have been mistaken for the idealistic couple. They had no way of knowing their lives were about to be interrupted by two people that seemed to stir up the most problems for them. 

The corner of the alleyway below this apartment is rounded by a man at breakneck speed. This sort of speed shouldn't be humanly possible, but there it is anyway. A marvel in itself, but not the center of attention. He rushes right past the building doors without so much as a thought or a glance at anyone, if anyone was even there. He didn't take the time to take note. 

Meanwhile the couple has reconciled their differences and were now in the process of creating a disgusting display of over the top affection. As they smiled, well one of them anyway, at each other ready to make the move to something even more disgusting they're jolted from their own little world when their door is hit hard and heavy. 

“Aww come oooooon” the only one with a mouth whines, “who could it possibly be at this hour?” He continues his blubbering as he approaches the door, the woman left in his wake seems less bothered by it. Not that she had a face to convey any emotions that she did have. Nevertheless, she was curious. She teetered to the side so she could see around her partner and into the hall as he opened it. 

“Shizuo?” He sounds almost disappointed, “what is it this time?” Asking questions before even assessing the situation fully.

Shizuo tries to come up with an explanation but it's harder than it seems. How do you explain why you're holding the body of your arch nemesis. “I-” he starts but he is cut off by Shinra’s sudden change in demeanor.

“Oh wow! Did you do that? Finally caught him huh?” The doctor laughs in a fit of glee. This certainly wasn't a reaction any normal human being would give, but the underground doctor was far from that and quite proud of it. “Eh” he shrugs in nonchalance “He got what was coming to him.” His quick chipper babbling doesn't leave room for the debt collector to respond, “Why'd you bring him here though?” 

“Because-”

The doctor's face turns into an ironically cold grin, “I don't care what you do with him. If you're hoping to save him, I suggest you find someone who does. I'm busy now. My wife needs me.” That emotionless grin stretches wide enough to stitch Shinra's eyes shut. “You understand right? Ok great!” he says with a sickeningly sweet tone much akin to Izaya's. “See ya later! Bye bye~” and before the demon has a chance to protest the door is shut right in his face. 

And in the hallway is Shizuo left with nothing but his waning mortal enemy and even more confusion than before he'd even gotten there. What a mess. Shinra was his best bet at getting out of this without looking too much at fault to the public but now he had to get civilian doctors involved? That was not ideal. What was with shinra anyway? Wasn’t he close to izaya? Or was at some point. It had always rubbed Shizuo the wrong way that Shinra would associate with someone like that but he was hoping their odd friendship would be helpful in this case. That was unfortunately not the case. Shizuo wondered for a brief moment what must’ve happened between the two of them to cause their falling out but those thoughts were interrupted by a sickly cough coming from the body in his arms. 

(Fuck! That's right!)

And with that Shizuo took off in the direction of his second best option. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The automatic doors to the emergency room open with a quiet hiss. An oddly familiar noise in such terrible circumstances. Shizuo doesn't have time to think of the words to explain what had happened before a team of people notice the bloody man in his arms and are swarming him. They grab izaya out of his arms and throw him onto a stretcher. Tearing his clothes to get a better look at the damage Shizuo had done. It was odd to see so many people fawning over izaya. If only they knew who he was. 

"Sir? Excuse me? Sir?" A voice breaks Shizuo’s from his thoughts. "Do you know if your friend has any allergies to medications?" 

"Huh?!" It’s a harsh sound. A little too harsh for some poor unsuspecting nurse. Shizuo tries to reign himself in. "I don’t know!" He wasn't doing a very good job. The woman looks surprised and takes a step back unconsciously, flipping through some paperwork on her clipboard. 

"What’s your friend’s name." She says, a little more defensive than before.

"Izaya Orihara." Shizuo states coldly. "He's not my friend."

The woman looks confused for a moment. Shizuo just glares back. it's not her fault he's angry. She's just doing her job, but Shizuo was having a hard time controlling himself at the moment. There was too much going on. Too much noise, too many people. The lights above him were a harsh contrast to the black night he'd wandered through to get here and they buzzed something awful. The floors smelled like disinfectant, so strong it burned, and a disembodied voice rang out from somewhere for more people to go places neither of which Shizuo knew anything about. It was just more noise. 

"Sir? .... Um, Sir?"

"What!!" Shizuo snaps.

The woman shuffles her papers awkwardly. She's obviously uncomfortable around him, but trying to stay professional. If she was truly a professional she wouldn't be so damn rude and would understand that sometimes people got disoriented in situations like this. He's about to tell her that when someone else walks up and mumbles something into her ear. She nods and turns back to Shizuo. "Does Izaya have a history of self harm? Any eating disorders? History of suicide attempts?" 

Shizuo scrunches up his face. "Why the fuck should I know! I told you he's not my friend!" 

"I understand, sir, but you gave us his name so we just wanted to know-"

"I don't know anything!! He pissed me off and got what he deserved ok!! Leave me alone!!" 

This makes both doctors a little uneasy. Shizuo's too preoccupied with being overwhelmed and angry to notice they are judging him. Sizing him up and formulating a plan to deal with him. Someone tells someone to call security. Shizuo doesn’t notice this at all. 

One doctor smiles. It is forced and awkward. “What’s your name, Sir?”

“Shizuo.” Shizuo states bluntly. 

“Shizuo, if you wanna take a seat over here, we can look at the wound in your shoulder.”

Shizuo looks at him confused for a second and then realizes there's some tiny ache in his shoulder like the doctor pointed out. 

(Oh. That's right. I got stabbed.)

He doesn't like the idea of staying here. He just wanted to drop izaya off and bolt but without Shinra around to fix things, He guessed a real doctor would have to do.

Shizuo lets himself be led to sit on a bed while someone stitches up his arm. As he calms down a bit, a doctor calls to cancel the security call. Unfortunately none of this does anything to stop the questions. They just keep asking more and more questions and it's really starting to get on his nerves. 

"I told you I didn't know anything!" Shizuo tries to protest but the doctors are having none of it.

"Ok! We understand! But if you could tell us what you do know then there's a better chance of helping Izaya.”

Shizuo growls. He doesn't like being prodded at, but in an establishment like a hospital, he doesn't have the authority to protest. 

(They're doctors. They're just trying to do they're job. ) 

He keeps telling himself. 

(The more you fight the worse trouble you'll be in.) 

Shizuo gives a heavy sigh, frowning.

"Fine." He grumbles as the only person with any details about a man he swears he hates but realizes he barely knows, which seems strange for the ridiculous amount of time spent with the flea consuming his mind, his life, everything.

Off another hallway on another floor there's a team prepped and repairing what they can. There's hushed comments about what might have happened. Being doctors and surgeons meant that it certainly wasn't the first time they'd seen something like this. The conversation was more casual than one would expect. An occasional spit of giggles from one of the attendees over a comment here or there. It would probably seem odd to any outsider how calm the setting seemed. Probably for the best that their patient was unconscious because they tended to get rather cynical and condescending. Making up stories about their patients lives and how they ended up there. It wasn't meant to be hurtful, they always assumed no one would know anyway. They were simply passing time…. And blood bags.

A nurse, whose name tag said Aiami, sits on the edge of her toes, but trying to hide it. She looks poised to bolt at the slightest indication of danger. She takes a seat opposite of where Shizuo and the doctor stitching him up are seated and tries to act casual. Her eyes are fixed more on her clipboard than him, as though avoiding eye contact would lessen the feeling of impending violence. 

“Umm..” she tries to collect herself as she thumbs through the pages. She clears her throat, “So, you said this… I..za..ya? Isn't your friend correct? But you do know who he is? Ok. That's helpful at least. Maybe we can find his emergency contact information with that.” She smiles politely, but it probably comes off more like she's trying to sedate a demon, which wasn't far from the truth. “Why don't you tell me what happened?” The nurse, so called Aiami, wants to bring up the fact that he basically admitted to being the culprit of the other man's predicament, but decides angering him further would likely be a bad idea. 

The woman prepares to begin taking notes when a doctor from earlier invites himself into the space. “It would seem your friends emergency contact needs to be updated.” He straightens his glasses and reads off the paperwork “Mr Shinra Kishitani claims to not be friends with Orihara either.” He's starting at Shizuo now like he should know who to call for some reason. “Is there anyone else we can call for your friend?”

“Uhh Dr Tashobi…” She tries to add that they were, in fact, not friends to make sure nothing escalated, but she is interrupted and dismissed. 

“You can finish your question sheet in a moment, Aiami.” he waves her off as if to indicate that the men would be talking from now on. 

Aiami never liked Dr. Tashobi and some part of her hopes that Shizuo punches this guy in the face, it would serve him right, however, he did have more authority than her. So she just nods a little defeated and complies “Yes sir.”

Shizuo stares at the man for a while, soaking in the situation. Was there anyone they should call? Izaya did have sisters didn't he? Not that Shizuo would know how to contact them. "I don't have any numbers ok?" 

Dr Tashobi makes a face at Shizuo's odd answer but shrugs as he hands a sheet of paper to Aiami. “make sure you go over this properly.” It was a condescending thing to say, as though she was completely incompetent and then he just simply walks away. He was a doctor with more important things to deal with. Dealing with ornery people was a nurse's job. 

"What an asshole." Shizuo mumbles to himself. It was loud enough for Aiami to hear and enough for her to use to her advantage. Perhaps this guy wasn't just a mindless brute. Maybe he was just stressed out and overwhelmed. She could work with that.

"Haha..yeah…..” Maybe she could use this to her advantage, a peace offering in the form of a friendly gesture. “People in this line of work tend to be like that sometimes”

Shizuo just stares, annoyed. 

"Ha..ha..ha...." she laughs nervously at the lack of any defined reaction to her statement, still trying to keep a smile on her face. Ok, something else. Hmmm. She leans towards him, putting her elbows on her knees. She fiddles with her pen for a moment, searching for the right words before looking back up at Shizuo. "Look, obviously you're not a bad person or you wouldn't have brought your “not friend” to us when he needed help, right? So I take it that means whatever happened wasn't on purpose right? I mean…. If you didn't want to help, you obviously could have just left if you wanted to..." Clearly there's more to this guy than meets the eye.

Shizuo scoffs at that. He was mostly pressured into staying by the doctor stitching him up because otherwise he would have kept bleeding. 

"I want to help you, but to do that I'm going to need your help ok?" She's still anxious but she looks hopeful, there's a tad bit of feminine charm thrown into her smile.

"I guess." Shizuo grumbles. Rolling his eyes. Whatever got him out of here the fastest. He hated hospitals.

The doctor that was stitching him up walks away for a moment and Shizuo is grateful to have his personal space back. Aiami thumbs over the sheet that had been handed to her only moments prior and frowning at it. Unlike the rest of the staff, this girl might actually be doing her job because she liked helping people. Maybe she was trustworthy. 

“Look, your…” she pauses to look for the right word to use, “acquaintance... has obviously been through a lot.” She's trying to build some sort of rapport with him, more friendly gestures, signs of being the altruistic person she's trying to present as. “I mean, these things seem pretty obvious.”. She's still reading the page and hasn't looked up, she sounds more like she's thinking out loud now, “even if you weren't his “friend” I'm sure you noticed the scarring and the fact that he's… at least 20 lbs less than he should be… Or that pale..” she trails off. Her eyes scan down the list making another concerned face as she looks for more things that would be obvious to the naked eye, “So that's obviously a point in the eating disorder category, the scarring I'd say is self inflicted… I'm going to guess that this isn't your first encounter. I mean, no one just goes out and gives someone a beating like that for no reason, so you have to have some sort of history right?”. She realizes that she's said all this out loud and looks up like she's done something horribly wrong.

“Oh god! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say it was your fault or anything I just… ” she stumbles over her words like they're Legos and she's just stepped on an entire bucket. She didn't want to make him angry and she's just said more about a patient than was legally acceptable. “Please don't tell anyone I read that to you…. “ Suddenly realizing that maybe, just maybe he actually had no clue. “Look there's just a lot of concerning stuff in here and I just want to make sure that if I let this guy out of here he's not going to go and do something stupid like jump in front of a train or something……”. Yeah, there it was. This girl really did just want to help. Needle in a haystack. Lucky for Shizuo. Lucky for Izaya.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything is far away and fuzzy. First comes sounds, like distant echoes off canyon walls miles apart. They take time to register. There's this slow hissing noise and an equally slow repetitive beep. They're like the tick of the world's slowest clock. Izaya’s consciousness is trying to grasp at things to pull him back to reality. It tugs at his eyelids, pulling them open in slow motion flutters. Things start to speed up, instincts kick in. There's something strangling his face and forcing itself down his throat. There's nothing more than the reaction to get it off. No sense of pain or that it might be there for good measure, just survival mode panic. He can feel it being ripped out of his windpipe like wet sandpaper. Panic. 

(Get it off! Breathe!) 

Seconds later the previously unconscious Izaya is doubled over the side of a hospital bed choking and gagging trying to remember how to breathe on his own. Things are slowly adding up in his head. It hurts. Dear God, everything hurts. Moving was a bad idea. Fuck. With a gasping whine he shoves himself back to his face up position and stares at the ceiling cringing in the agony he'd be trying to contain better had he known anyone was there. As he continues to try to catch his breath he tips his head back up just enough to take stock of his situation. A hospital. Of course. The demon couldn't just leave him to die or finish the job. Disappointing. A sigh of utter defeat falls out between the shortened sounds of the strained intake of oxygen. Even breathing hurts. 

(Someone come back and sedate me. I don't want to be here….. ) 

He's still staring at the emptiness of the ceiling as if it's not even there. Morphine. That's what they use for pain right? Maybe if he… he turns to find the switch to turn it up and possibly sedate himself when he realizes that there's someone else there. Izaya freezes in place.

( Shit. Shit shit shit.)

Someone was there to witness his private moments of bereavement. And not just anyone. Of course not. No. It had to be the bane of his existence. He has some vague flashback of some half lucid encounter with his ex friend and everything in his head is suddenly swimming. Everything trying to process all at once. Izaya doesn't realize that he's statuesque, still staring right through the man that should have killed him. The man that took him back to the place of his torment. Why? Why would he do that? Why would he take him to that person?!!! 

(That person… that person… that person!!!!!!)

He's stuck in a mental loop remembering Shinra. Everything about Shinra. Everything about their once relationship, everything about his utter betrayal, Izaya’s own failure. There's probably a stream of facial expressions conveying the abhorrent swarm of different emotions playing across his face. He doesn't have enough grasp on himself to force fake smiles and harmonic tones like usual. No, he finally finds words and he's gawking at Shizuo “Why?” The single word comes out in a sound not to standard of his usually crafted persona, it's almost lamenting, as if he's been wronged in some way that can never be undone. Still, it's a vague question. 

Shizuo looks over from the window when he hears movement. He watches quietly as Izaya chokes on the tube and tries to regain control and awareness of his surroundings. It was odd, observing someone he was so used to seeing at their very best, now at their very worst. The flea appeared human in his pain. Vulnerable even. The split second of fear and then anger in his eyes when he finally noticed that Shizuo had stayed made Izaya seem like a person with feelings instead of a creature that only pretended to feel. It was all starting to make sense to Shizuo. 

"Because I was wrong." He says, looking back out the window at the clouds passing over the night sky. He'd had roughly 24 hours to process the events that had transpired. At first he had ditched Izaya the second he had a chance, but many cigarettes and a sleepless night later he'd wandered back to the hospital. There was just too much unanswered. Too much that didn't add up. If Izaya truly was the emotionless demon he had once been to Shizuo, why would he suddenly choose now to fake emotions? It just didn't make sense in the grand scheme of things.

It had been too quiet the few weeks before the incident. Shinra had mentioned off hand that he'd had a falling out with Izaya. Something Shizuo didn't give half a shit about at the time but now it seemed to be an incredibly important piece to the puzzle. The doctor said that Shinra was Izaya's last emergency contact. Did that mean Izaya didn't have any other friends or family members he trusted enough to call in an emergency? Shizuo wondered if the flea had any friends or family at all. To truly have no one. Not even one friend. That was something Shizuo couldn't even imagine. He'd be damn near suicidal in that hell of a situation. Could Izaya be that completely and utterly alone? It was that thought that had planted a tiny seed of guilt in Shizuo's stomach. A seed that grew and grew until he had to come back. Back to the hospital for someone he had spent more time obsessing over than he cared to expresses, yet knew absolutely nothing about. Not in all the years he'd known Izaya, did Shizuo think he was a person. The idea that he hadn't punished someone who deserved it that night, but someone who had been dealt more shit than a single person could take? That didn't sit well with him.  
Shizuo wasn't the best person, but he tried to be better. He wasn't the fastest at figuring things out either. Nor was he the best at putting himself in others shoes, but given the time, he had come to the conclusion that maybe Izaya wasn't soulless and perhaps he had been too quick to judge. Perhaps Izaya was just lonely, angry at being abandoned by everyone he knew. These schemes he had and the trouble he went through to play them out, all just to hurt others, It was far more complicated than anything Shizuo would ever understand. But maybe it was just one huge, convoluted defense mechanism. Maybe Izaya was lashing out and rightfully so if Shizuo's theory was correct. He was just angry. Same as Shizuo himself. When the world rejects you? You reject the world. 

And the other things the doctors had said. About eating disorders and self harm? It fell right into place considering how skinny and weak the flea had been. Shizuo deemed it pitiful even then but now? Now he actually felt sorry for the guy because that fight, The fight that started this whole mess, Shizuo now had enough reason to believe Izaya sought him out on purpose with the intention of losing. He wanted Shizuo to beat him to death not just to prove the brute was a worthless monster, but because Izaya thought he was a worthless monster himself. 

"I was wrong..." Shizuo says, after a long while tilting his head back over to look at the flea. "....about you."

Wrong? Izaya frowns a confused and guarded stare back at the blond “What sort of answer is that?” 

Instantly defensive. This was not part of the plan. This was not where the Shizuo piece of the puzzle fit. Somehow it had been cut and reshaped and the man he had never been able to predict in the first place was now an even bigger, even more frustrating mystery. How dare he sit there so calmly after not doing exactly what a monster should have done! Izaya should be dead. This was not- “Are the last few of your monstrous brain cells having an existential crisis?” No. The demon should be angry. Not right. Not right. Why isn't he attacking? Why... why is he just sitting there with- “That's a disgusting face on a monster” that thoughtful, distant look on his visage. It's like Shizuo is the one with all the cards this time. What does he know? What did they tell him. “This is rather uncomfortable having such a beast giving me such a pitiful look.” He keeps trying to stoke the fire, but nothing seems to be working. “What is it that they told you to cause such a state?” Paranoia. He's staring with scrutiny laced with panic.

( No no no no. The secrets. No. Not supposed to know. Mine. Stay away.)

“Get out.” Izaya says. Droplets of the torrential thought process spinning quickly out of control spill out. “You're NOT supposed to be here!” It's an accusation, not at Shizuo himself but at the entire situation. “...I'm not…” supposed to be here. Then there's this awkward twist away from the locked gaze and an odd tilt of the informant's head. 

( Stop. )   
One hand reaches up and runs through his hair just a little too hard, as though it could hold the thoughts in place. He freezes there in that bizarre position a moment, breathes too heavy, too hard in his chest. In a movement not as quick and not as hard as it was intended his free hand hurls the pillow in the debt collectors direction without even a glance. “OUT!” He repeats.   
In the same movement, the free hand finds an asymmetrical hold on the other side of his head. It's like a vice. Not for one second did Izaya even consider Shizuo's presence would continue to linger. 

(Shut up. Wrong wrong. Be quiet. This isn't how it should be. You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. )

He hasn't realized the slow curl of his too boney spine pulling his head closer to his knees. Some physical manifestation subconsciously driven by the bottomless desire to implode. 

(You fucked up on everything. He knows. They know. Everyone knows now. Ruin. Ruin.)

His brain is torturing itself in his depravity. The entire lifetime of building this persona crashing down like a brick through a glass window. And Shizuo is still there. Knowing. Knowing everything. 

(Get out! Out! Out! )

So like a deranged puppet of the chaos drowning his head he starts tearing at the I.V.s and monitor wires, anything he can get his hands on. If the monster won't leave then Izaya sure will. Death would be better than ruin. Go find the first train, or traffic light, or roof top, anything the first thing. No. None of this. No more of any of it. 

(Ruin ruin. The beast will always have everything and you will always have nothing. Isn't that how it's always been?)

Shizuo jumps to his feet the second Izaya's fingertips touch the first tube. This was not the reaction he was expecting. Not that he had expected anything, but certainly not having to stop the flea from dangerously pulling important wires and needles out of his body. Shizuo was careless with his body all the time; plugging puncture wounds with super glue and ramming his entire body into city infrastructure, but he wasn't as sick as Izaya was now. His body could handle that kind of abuse. Izaya's couldn't. He could barely breathe right as of now, not to mention the slew of pre-existing conditions Shizuo had barely any knowledge of aside from there definitely being some. Why would the doctors make such a big deal out of them if they weren't serious and ongoing? Shizuo hadn't just beaten the flea to a pulp, he'd beaten a flea that was already hurt. 

Another twinge of guilt twists in Shizuo's stomach. Izaya was in this shitty situation because of Shizuo. Izaya was visibly in terrible pain because of Shizuo. Izaya could barely breathe because of Shizuo. But he didn't have the time to wallow in that thought. It was only about keeping Izaya from hurting himself at this moment. 

Shizuo tries his best to be careful as he takes the mess of medical equipment away from the delirious flea. It's easy to pry his hands off. He's weak and smaller than Shizuo, and the complicated procedure of removing the twisted tubes seemed only half formed. Truly Izaya was not functioning as efficiently as Shizuo was used to. It was a little odd to witness. 

Once the immediate issue of getting the tubes and wires out of his grasps was solved, the next step was keeping him from doing it again. Shizuo didn't jump to action with a clear plan himself, so he settled for just holding Izaya's hands down until he thought of something better. It wasn't a long term solution but it worked for now. As unfortunate as it was, the doctors might have to get restraints for this. they had done it to Shizuo before when he was younger. He never liked hospitals and had a habit of trying to leave before he was supposed to. However, Izaya's situation was a little different. He wasn't just an abnormally strong kid who just wanted to go back home and read comic books. He apparently had a history of self harm and suicide attempts, the kinds of things people got put into psychiatric wards for. Shizuo had been in one of those once. It wasn't for very long and it was only for his temper issues in school, but based on that short experience, he wouldn't want Izaya to end up there. It wasn't a place that cultivated happy people and it was clear to Shizuo now that Izaya was definitely not a very happy person.   
Certainly not the soulless kind who took pleasure in being cruel to strangers the way Shizuo had previously thought. He didn't know Izaya very well, but from what he did understand, it didn't seem like the kind of place a person like Izaya would get any benefit from. Izaya wasn't average. Not by a long shot. 

Shizuo let out a frustrated breath. He never imagined he'd be in this situation. Gently pinning his once arch nemesis to a hospital bed to stop him from hurting himself, He never imagined he'd feel guilty for putting him there, and he never imagined that he would feel sorry for the miserable being Izaya apparently was. What an odd turn of events.

The escape plan was just as malformed as the slew of words he'd just spat at Shizuo, meaning it didn't take much effort to subdue him; especially for the demon. Izaya fights it the entire time, spitting more half formed sentences as his hands were pried from the medical tubing. “Let go!” Clearly he can't force his way out of the debt collector’s grasp, not even in top condition could he have done that. “Stop!” He gives up on trying to remove the medical essentials and tries swatting at the beast instead. Shizuo seems unphased which is even more frustrating than the quickly waning stamina to continue the weak barrage. Why? Why does this asshole always win? What should he even care if the flea lives or dies? This is not… how it's supposed to be. 

By the time the informant is pinned down he's already panting from the effort. When he tries to spew more venom it's interrupted by his lungs inability to properly retrieve oxygen with a few horribly wet coughs. Coughs that taste a little like iron still. A flavor that should have sent up red flags of self preservation, but he's too unstable to give a damn. Everything was so wrong. It should be his friend here, not this barbarian. His friend that never showed up anyway, his not friend. 

Izaya is gritting a sneering glare up at the blond as the thoughts scuttle through his head. Had they ever been friends to begin with? The sneering is melting into a frown, the anger only forged by hurt and betrayal and utter disappointment. Shinra had said it, that's right. Never really been friends. He should have known better, but that need to fool himself into believing he wasn't really alone had overridden the objective logic that would have been needed to see it. Though, on some level, he'd always known. Ah, but hope, the destroyer of logic. The greatest tool in all of God's box of convoluted destruction disguised as all that was and could be good in the world. Damn hope. Damn hope to hell and back again. This wasn't fair! 

“Get OFF!” He barks trying to wiggle out of the hands like a vice grip. And back came the tidal wave. He'd been the one that made his life duty to get revenge for his 'friend’ when they were attacked. Not Shizuo. What the fuck had he ever done other than be a fine specimen for a science project? “Why?” There's implied curse words behind it, but they don't make it out of his mouth. His head is too busy taking over. It's all on repeat, a broken record stuck on play, spinning into eternity. Between the physical agony creeping back in and the mental torture it's too much. Like a balloon that won't stop filling. Something has to give. 

“Why do YOU get everything?” Still, Izaya struggles to break free, he wants to beat the life out of this man with his bare hands. It's a wonder no one's come with the sounds of yelling carrying through the acoustics of the room, but then again, the raven isn't able to muster nearly the volume he's intended. “What makes you so much better?” 

(Enemy. Destroy. Blame.) 

“You destroy EVERYTHING you touch!” It's melting again, the facade of pure rage that he'd managed to conjure. “So why?” Dripping into a real emotion, “Why do YOU always get everything that was mine?!” And it's not rage, it's knit eyebrows and the down turned corners of his mouth. Not a snarl or a growl or even a bite, “You always get everything…” stuck on repeat. Izaya doesn't register that his eyes are leaking defeat. 

(Disappear. I just want to disappear. )

“Go away. Leave me alone….” his voice tapers off to near whispers. At least he's not screaming anymore, but he turns his head away finally realising that the last person on the face of the planet he'd ever want to see his truths was the only one left to see it. 

(Defeat. Ruin. Disappear. It's all pointless.)

The short circuiting in his brain divulging information he wouldn't have otherwise, “I'm always alone anyway” he says, it was more of a subconscious slip. Hope; The greatest destroyer.

("Why do YOU get everything?")

Shizuo is taken aback by those words. Everything? Shizuo didn't have everything. He had a moderate lifestyle with a few close friends and got into just a little more trouble than the average citizen. But Izaya wasn't speaking quite so literally. He didn't mean everything Shizuo had. He meant everything Izaya didn't. Shizuo was only just learning the tiny details of Izaya's life and he wasn't entirely clear what the question actually meant, but he could feel it. The envy, the longing, the resentment radiating off of Izaya's face. Shizuo wasn't so dense he couldn't see the difference in Izaya's tone from their usual conversations. It was so raw and real and painful to look at. It was so terribly mournful it had caused Izaya to cry without realizing. Shizuo loosens his grip and takes a step back. It was so jarring to see actual emotions in the flea, so truly perplexing to see Izaya in such a vulnerable state. It started to raise some sort of protective instinct in Shizuo. He wanted to make whatever hurt Izaya so terribly go away. He actually wanted to help, for no other reason but to stop this suffering. 

("Go away. Leave me alone…”)

But he was the reason. Maybe not the entire reason but enough to make izaya beg him to leave. What a conundrum. How could Shizuo help keep Izaya safe and stop him from hurting himself without compromising his request to go away? Shizuo freezes in uncertainty. There wasn't a correct answer to these problems and there wasn't enough time to weigh the pros and cons of both. And watching Izaya crumble before his eyes was such a surreal experience he couldn't stop himself from staring. He couldn't stop himself from studying every micro expression that flashed across Izaya's face and every break in his unsteady voice as he tried to yell. It seemed so..... important, and yet Shizuo could do nothing about it. 

"I'm sorry." He says. It slips out of his mouth with tactless, indifference despite meaning it wholeheartedly. He was wrapped up in the moment. He didn't know what to do. He said the first thing he learned to say when something was bad and he couldn't fix it with actions, but he forgot to add any inflection. "I'm...sorry..." he says again, this time with a better tone but sounds disjointed and awkward. He feels awkward. He just wants to help but he doesn't know how or why. "I can't... leave. You might hurt yourself..." well, technically yes. That was why, but it wasn't the answer Izaya is looking for and he knows that. He also knows it isn't a good idea to make assumptions on other people's behavior, but Shizuo was never good at doing that. 

He grits his teeth, frustrated with himself. 

(Why can't you just talk dammit!)   
He looks down for a moment, eyes closed, searching for something to convey his reasoning for not listening, despite implying to be on Izaya's side of things. "I'm trying to help you." He says a little too forcefully, but that was as good of an answer as Izaya was going to get.

Sorry? Sorry? Sorry for what? It's a trap. It has to be. Why on all of this god forsaken planet would Shizuo be 'sorry’? Why now? Izaya does look back over, his eyes are stuck on the window. He’s not looking at anything in particular, just staring through space. The crimson of his eyes dancing through fading daylight unconsciously as his too quick powers of deduction try to process and decipher the riddle hanging quite literally above his head. He'd never been able to figure the blond out, not even now. So why? Why would he be sorry? Izaya wants to hate him, with every fiber of his existence he wants to hate and blame Shizuo, but at the same time there's this innate human need for some sort of connection to someone, anyone would do at this point. Still, the info broker is fighting it. Was that what it's come to? Was he that desperate? Don't be a fool, don't be weak, you know what will happen in the end. Yes, he knows better, but even with the immaculate facade of poised control, the truth was he had little on his own actions. At least when it came to things like this. 

He's still fixated on the empty space, forgetting to actually look at anything, listening, waiting, paying acute attention to every inch of subtle movement and every pound of inflection, or lack thereof. When he felt some relief in the grip holding him in place his first reaction was to push back and beat the ever loving fuck out of Shizuo. Anger, hatred, Jealousy. He wrenches one arm out of Shizuo's grasp, but hesitates. What point would that actually serve?

(You'll drive away the only person, as ironic as it may be, left in the whole world that can save you from you.)

He'd been wrong, the demon had been wrong about him. The former bartender had figured something out, sure it took a decade, but he was slow. Izaya would give him that, but he still needed to release the energy pooling in his mind. ‘I'm trying to help you.' In the end, both sides win out. 

With a movement more adjacent to his usual precision and speed Izaya rips his other arm away too, sits up and back hands the blond as hard as he can manage. But that's it, there's no rain of fists or knives from nowhere. The informant doesn't shove him away either, his sits there stubborn and glaring. It wasn't so much about making a statement as it was a need to hurt the monster, revenge, self validation. For a man of so, so many words he has few at this point. He lets the stun of his decisions sink in, eyes glued to Shizuo's face. And then, with all the enigma that the flea was he smiles, the strangest, most accepting grin and says “Well, that helped.” It's not the start of a fight, maybe the end of one though. 

He's tired and cold and his body is finally catching up with his brain and everything hurts, but this is far more interesting than curling up to die. Of course, part of him still wants to, but the edges of dispar have been tempered off to blunt, stupid hope. It's a stupid choice he's sure, but Izaya doesn't actually want to die, he just wants it to stop. He wants a reason not to. If this is where it comes from, so be it. There's a visible shift of bones beneath the hospital gown when he moves to lean back on his hands. Yeah, holding himself up was a lot easier that way. His too small frame shutters from a chill he's not quite aware of, but he's still watching. Waiting. 

(What's your motive here demon? What will you do now, I wonder?)

Izaya knows that there's a good possibility he'll be pummeled or abandoned and that slapping his opponent across the face could very well lead to the loss of whatever thread of a chance at not being left to rot in misery, but he still hadn't been able to stop the impulse to react to emotion, not completely. Unfortunately, his unstable emotional set seemed to be what drove people away. 

Time is ticking by and the anxiety of his own actions are taking hold, sewing his eyebrows together for that awkward mix of emotion always stuck on his face. The mask of a smile mixed with something akin to self forsaken remorse. Maybe in the moments of uncontrolled expressions, Shizuo could now line up this familiar visage with every other one like it prior. A hint of amusement, a dash of hatred, a pinch of vengeance and an entire jar of self loathing. 

Shizuo's too wrapped up in trying to process what was happening to notice Izaya's arm reel back. Though he does manage to look up just in time to get slapped straight across the face. It stings for a moment but it's not enough to send him into the psychotic rage he was so famous for. Especially since he had spent the last few hours while waiting for the flea to wake up working on his own reactions to these kinds of things. Izaya was no longer an instigator in and of himself. With a little bit of information in his life and a few tweaks to Shizuo's understanding of him, it was a lot easier to sit here and take a hit without feeling like killing the man for doing so. It also helped that he totally and completely deserved it. In fact, he deserved much more than just a slap for what his actions over the years must have added to Izaya's misery. He continues to wonder how much more he doesn't know. 

Shizuo takes his punishment and stays very still. He doesn't even bring a hand up to dull the pain on his cheek. He's trying to stay as calm and unthreatening as possible and show as best as he can without words (because god knew he wasn't good with those) that he's not here to make things worse. He's trying to keep his promise of helping. He's still unsure of the deeper meaning of the action, but it didn't matter at the moment. If Izaya said it helped, he'd accept that and simply use this as an opportunity to prove he was being truthful about what he said before. He was here to be a friend to Izaya, not to torture him any more than necessary. How ironic. 

After a brief moment of still silence, Shizuo looks back up at Izaya. "Better?" He says, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. The sly expression on Izaya's face bizarrely gives Shizuo a sense of relief. It's an odd feeling. Like a return to normalcy, but without the bitter tension that usually hung over them. Not that it wasn't horribly awkward, being so close to his once arch enemy in an empty hospital room sealing the weirdest truce Japan has ever seen. It was weird for sure, but there wasn't that suffocating negativity in the air. He wouldn't call it calm, but it was certainly less infuriating to be in Izaya's presence now. The flea no longer represented an evil meant only for destruction and cruelty, a thing without feelings or a soul. Izaya was just another person. A deeply disturbed person with a very peculiar way of dealing with his problems, but a person nonetheless. His quirk of personality made him an outsider. That was something Shizuo understood to at least some degree. He wasn't entirely sure how far the similarities would go but if Shinra had been truthful about how alike he thought Shizuo and Izaya were, perhaps a friendship could be formed.

This demon never reacted the way one would expect. Izaya frowns in frustration momentarily. What's this? No bouts of anger? No rush of unbridled rage? Not even so much of a twitch of being enticed to leave? How terribly frustrating. Why? Why? There's this subconscious sigh of relief though, somewhere deep and submerged in the farthest depths of repression. It's a silent cry for a reprieve from the ache resounding up from the black, bottomless pit of alienation from the entirety of humanity. 

The tight knit tense in his eyebrows releases it's hard suture with a slow blink and a momentary deepening of the glower stretching the informant’s mouth. His eyes flick back open as both his brow and shoulders move in a universal shrug. At the same time his lips twist back up into something akin to a smile. Presentation is eighty-five percent of the game. Hold face, maybe Shizuo doesn't know as much as it seems. He reminds himself to find a steady mental pace. Though, he's out of practice on such perfectly executed facades. The fake smile doesn't quite touch the edges of his eyes like it did previously. Still, he could try. It was easier to hold on to the world around him with something to focus in on so acutely. The nostalgia of their old games, stability in it's most twisted form, but stability nonetheless. 

Izaya forces himself forward again with more effort than it should take. It hurts. Everything hurts. No pain no gain though. The need for this game overriding what mental processes that told him to stop. The differences in their stature was much more obvious when they were this close. The flea staring up through the shade of his bangs, like so many times before poised to taunt the demon in repetitious fashion. Habits formed from years, decades, of this game. His mouth opens and takes in a breath more painful than he'd expected it to be. The sharp of a knife in his lungs only cuts into a wince for a few seconds before his grin goes slipping back into a sharp smirk aimed to fire. But the air stops in the rise of his chest.

All the habitual instincts in the world can't suppress his keen attention to detail. Shizuo's eyes empty of the desire to fight him. It's completely undeniable at this distance. He holds his breath unconsciously while the facade drops to disappointment, then confusion, followed quickly by something like defeat. The flea’s exhale comes out heavy. He doesn't turn completely away at first, just a slight twitch of a turn. The informant's rusty eyes flick across Shizuo's face searching for something, though he isn't sure what for. Perhaps a hint that this wasn't pity and regret staring back at him. A hint that he still had the persona he'd spent a lifetime building. It isn't there. There's a subtle downturn in the line of his mouth again as his eyes dart towards the bottom most corner of whatever wall was closest. A still silent pause in all movement falls as the reality sets in. It lingers stale in the air before he turns the rest of his face away. 

( Yes. Defeat. Now what? You don't even have your shell of self preservation left. And your enemy knows it. Submit. There's nowhere left to run to. )

Death would have been easier. His jaw tightens in a physical manifestation of the mental battle for containment. He should leave. The demon should leave. 

(Don't leave.)

There's a long silence as the two struggle to find their social footing in this new space. Mostly Shizuo. He was at a disadvantage not having a long history of being able to talk to others so freely. He wasn't good at making friends and certainly never with an enemy. Izaya was going through cycles of emotions Shizuo couldn't identify, getting lost in thoughts Shizuo couldn't read. 

This was a mess. Shizuo didn't know exactly why he felt so compelled to stay at first, but after some thinking he'd come to the conclusion that it was because it felt wrong to leave someone so sick alone with no friends or family. Sure, Izaya had his sisters but they didn't know what had happened, nor did he have anyway of telling them. As the only person aware of Izaya's situation, Shizuo had a responsibility to stay. But there was more. There was a small seed of interest that grew in his mind as he waited for Izaya to wake up. He had so many questions now about his past and what all that dangerous stuff the doctors had told him was about. Shizuo had always hated Izaya on principle. He didn't make sense until now. The more Shizuo pieced together, the more human Izaya seemed. He wasn't a complete monster, he was just... severely fucked up and probably in need of.... something. 

"Look. We don't have to be friends, ok?" Shizuo says after a while. "I just need to know that if I walk away you won't... jump off a building or whatever." Shizuo ran a hand through his hair looking away himself. It was uncomfortable to be here. He didn't have the right words for this situation. Who could plan for something like this? Shizuo understood Izaya would probably lie and say he wouldn't try to hurt himself again just to make him go away, so the question was kind of pointless. "I know enough to think you might do it so... " he looks back at Izaya, doing his best to seem like he knows what he's doing. "Just tell me enough to believe you won't."

The word friends sounds so amazingly awkward coming off that tongue. Izaya turns slowly back as the words falter from the demon's mouth with an unblinking, incredulous stare. Needs to know? Why would this creature need such affirmation of such a thing? How peculiar. A shift in the tide it would seem. Despite the stabbing pangs of pain it created, the flea can't help but chuckle. How amusing. “What care is it of yours what I do?” This must be some sort of self redemption attempt. Yes, that's it. Actual concern would be out of the question. Right? There's doubt there though. It would be much easier if no one cared of course. 

This positioning is growing more and more uncomfortable and he can't grasp the entirety of Shizuo's facial expressions from here. The informant shifts backwards some, holding his breath past the creak and pop of stiff abused bones and ligaments. He exhales leaning back on one elbow, but keeps his attention locked on the person above him. The blond seemed so awkward and misplaced. Was he actually trying to accomplish something sincere? Curiosity tips Izaya's head to the side coupled with a scrutinizing, yet not so deadly gaze. Somewhere in his head something clicks without him even noticing. All he could see in front of him was this poor human struggling to do something completely against his nature for reasons Izaya himself couldn't quite pin down. Yet somehow, it was sort of endearing. 

He doesn't want to say too much or spur the brute in any direction. The flea just wants to see, wants to observe what the debt collector will do. What is in his actual nature to do in such a predicament? A human, not so good at being human, but trying so hard. Set some bait. He offers the most pathetic mournful, but still quiet sigh he can. 

(Details. Details.)

Then sets a purposely broken grin back on his face, for the words that come, as much as they are meant to pry for a reaction, are also, unfortunately true. “It's not like the world would be missing anything if I did, right?” That's right. “Don't worry Shizu-chan, you're released from your moral turmoil. You've never been the only one who wanted me dead.” More truths painted as jokes to water down the sting of actuality.

Shizuo grinds his teeth at those words. It's so disgustingly hopeless. He'd never had to deal with a situation like this. Wanting to help someone who didn't want it. "You can't just fucking die because someone doesn't like you! That's stupid!" Shizuo wasn't sure why the thought of Izaya just giving up made him so angry but it did. "Whatever happened to you to make you... like this..... it.... well I don't know what it is but it probably wasn't your fault because you were too young to know any better!" The words are jumbled mess of a message. Words spoken from his own experience and the experience he'd been guessing about for Izaya.

When they had met back in school, Izaya was already on a bad path much like Shizuo. Their rivalry had started when they were still in school, still children. So whatever made Izaya become the disgusting flea Shizuo thought he was, it must have happened before then, right? Therefore it probably wasn't his fault, but there was no way to be sure without Izaya telling him so. Shizuo didn't think that was going to happen anytime soon. He crosses his arms with a bitter huff. He hated having to play nice with people's emotions. It just didn't make sense to him. Why were there so many unspoken rules about what's right or wrong to do? Why couldn't everyone else just set them aside when there were more important things to deal with like he could? Why couldn't they just say what they meant instead of dancing around what they wanted to say? Or in this case, what he needed them to say. "So, think of something better to tell me."

Izaya's grin inches a little lopsided in amusement. Ah, There's the anger. He gives a very attentive gaze to the outburst, taking in every word and looking for holes to fill with instigation. The flea’s crimson eyes widen with the raise of his brow at the word 'stupid’ as if to say 'oh? You think so huh?’. Shizuo sure was dead set on changing the informant's mind, but he still couldn't figure out why. How odd. 

The more frustration that radiates off the demon the more the flea finds himself amused. Like watching a kitten. He can't help but chuckle. Precious. The info broker doesn't even stop to consider his past and what it may have caused. Introspection was a dangerous game. Though in the back of his mind there were a thousand answers as to what that thing might be, or perhaps just a compilation of all of them. Not that he or anyone else had ever bothered to give those thoughts any satisfaction let alone validation. No, he too had just written himself off as a lesser example of what a human should be, a monster. Not being taught otherwise, he had no reason to think anything different. The end of Shizuo's rant is answered with a shrug, the avoidance of an answer.

“My my.” Izaya sighs out, slouching back onto both elbows now. He takes a deep breath, a mistake, but it's too late to take back. He curses himself internally just as much as he winces physically. 

(Your shows will be the death of you you know.) 

“You're just full of demands today aren't you?” his air coming out with the murmur of words. Why did he feel compelled to prolong this conversation? Didn't he want the beast to leave? Hell, didn't the beast himself want to leave? “What strange games are you trying to play at Shizu-chan? This really isn't your strong suit you know.” He cocks his head to the other side and ponders out loud, curiosity wonders “Have you suddenly lost your wits and are looking for some sort of universe shattering resolution between us?” He pauses straight faced, perhaps even a little irritated. “To be pitied by you would be such a disgusting thing. I don't want it.” 

(Yes you do. Shut up.)

"I didn't ask if you wanted it!" Shizuo growls back. Despite knowing that all Izaya's evil came from a pain he could never know, it was hard to believe when Izaya was playing with him in the moment. Sure, it was a little off-kilter, a little worse than what he was probably used to displaying but it was close enough to remind Shizuo why he hated him so much in the first place. "Why can't you just accept someone's kindness when it's given to you?! It's not easy to do y'know!" He bites back on the last word realizing too late how stupid that question was. First of all, it wasn't a question that could be easily answered and second of all, it wasn't something people probably share to just anyone let alone a former enemy. This was hopeless. Why did he even bother. He should just let the flea jump off a building anyway. The world would be better for it.

That last thought bothered Shizuo. He was never that cruel to someone so indirectly. He tried to help when he could, and if he hurt someone it's because they specifically fucked with him or his friends. Izaya wasn't that kind of threat right now. He wasn't a threat to anyone but himself and that would work out in his favor so why bother caring? Why bother trying to save his life? This monstrous person who reminded him too much of the bad parts of himself. "Your sisters would miss you..." he says after a long pause between the two of them. It was a half baked response but hopefully true. Hopefully enough to get him out of this stalemate where Izaya wasn't going to budge on this and just give up and die.

So it was pity. Disgusting. The thickening abhorrence growing inside was more from having put himself in such a situation than anything else. Still the motives behind the blonds actions were not something he could grasp. However, he could accept that this was an attempt, as awkward as it was, of Shizuo being nice. Kindness from a beast. What an odd concept. Was he even capable of such things? 

“What reason would Shizu-chan ever have to be “kind” to the one he hates so much, I wonder?” Even though the answer had already been stated multiple times by Shizuo, Izaya couldn't accept that it was just that simple. “The only reason a human is ever kind is because there is some profit in it for them.” He waves a hand lazily, not even bothering to lift the elbow he's learning on. So many words to say 'I call bullshit’. He continues to listen to the debt collector's bargaining despite his own skepticism.

“Yes, yes. Of course, the twins!” the sarcasm doesn't melt into the agreement until the second half of it, “That’s why they are so very good at keeping in touch.” The smile plastered on his face is way too wide for this sort of statement. “And besides, who else's corpse would the offer to sell you in return for five seconds with your beloved brother.” There’s a grandiose gesture of excitement in mock display of how thrilled the two girls would be. His eyes flash wide and grin goes agape as if totally engulfed in glee. The flea laughs in some sort of twisted self loathing morbid amusement, but amusement nonetheless. 

Even though Shizuo's argument is quickly shot down, the informant decides to accept the sincerity of the brute’s attempt. Besides, no one else was going to bother to try and convince the raven to try. Did he really want to die? Or did he just want a reason to keep living? Strangely similar questions, but vastly different at the same time. Forced introspection be damned. 

(Alright Shizu-chan, let's see what sort of conviction lives inside that head of yours.) 

The fit of laughter falters into a sigh and Izaya finally gives up on holding himself in an upright position. Ever so dramatic, he simply lets himself go limp and allows the low impact of falling backwards force the rest of the air out of his lungs with a huff. 

His attention locks on the ceiling instead as his mind starts to wander over things he'd rather avoid. Things that got him here in the first place. Too many thoughts to sort through or even wonder if conveying them would serve any purpose at all. Especially to this man. He frowns to the empty space, his mind quickly escaping the momentary control he'd had prior.

(Tick tock, Izaya.)

“Talking to you is exhausting.” And without a pause or even a thought on what it actually means the informant's subconscious reaches out and adds “come back later if you care to continue this strange exchange.” The statement is already out there, but stranger still, he doesn't completely regret it. 

Sedatives would be much appreciated currently. Something to quell the brewing storm. Perhaps he could at least save himself the shame of presenting another breakdown right in Shizuo's face. Self preservation, or at least he would tell himself it was. The idea that having someone sit with you through a breakdown would be more helpful than harmful was something he'd never had the personal experience to understand. Better to just lock it away and pretend it doesn't exist right? Yeah, that's worked out so well thus far. Some part of him is still waiting to see if Shizuo will walk away, another to see if he comes back, another saying he won't and yet another saying it was stupid to even consider talking to him at all. Why should anyone care? Still wretched hope wants to see the former bartender leave and come back by his own choice. Completely unaware that this has already happened once.

Shizuo stares at Izaya's theatrics in disturbed disbelief. Never in his life had he ever met someone so drunk on their own misery they genuinely found the concept of their own suicide amusing. How far gone was the flea? How deep did this rabbit hole go? The thought was both unsettling yet intriguing at the same time. That curiosity for who Izaya really was returning to him. He had no words for the feeling this imaginary scenario gave him. He could neither criticize nor deny the likelihood of such a thing happening because he didn't know enough to make a judgement. All that was left to do was stare befuddled at how deeply izaya seemed to believe his life was worthless. Shizuo had always been of the opinion that Izaya was a narcissistic piece of garbage who thought the world belonged to him. That people were his playthings because he deserved to have them. However, this was not the same Izaya. The theatrics were the same, but the intent was different. The message was far darker and much less..... self righteous. 

(“come back later if you care to continue this strange exchange.”)

Shizuo cocks an eyebrow. Really? That quickly he changed his mind? Well. It was probably just a game. A test of some sort. Izaya had more in his head that he was letting on but Shizuo didn't have the energy to bother attempting to decode. He knew he wasn't smart enough to anyway. "So you'll live till I come back tomorrow to check on you?" It's phrased as a promise for Izaya to agree too.

Izaya isn't really paying attention to the blond anymore. He's too busy thinking about things he probably shouldn't be. There's silence for a longer span of time than there should have been before the former bartender opens his mouth again, but it goes unnoticed by the flea. Stuck somewhere between reality and his own twisted version of it, when Shizuo's question finally comes the response he gives Izaya is flung aside like nothing more than a passing thought. Izaya's answer is nothing more than that, an empty answer to a useless question. He's lazily waving a hand at the brute without even so much as a twitch of acknowledgement with anything other than the scrawny appendage. “Mhmm,” there's an implied “yeah yeah whatever suits you” in the gesture, it is however, sincere enough without the usual verbal embellishments.

Even though he agrees, what he's agreeing to doesn't really sink in at first. He's still staring at the ceiling as though it held the answers to the questions of the universe. Izaya's face twisted in morbid scrutiny as if the empty sterile white had a face to react with. Obviously it doesn't, it's just as vapid as the world was, empty voids of space with no meaning. His hand hits the hospital mattress before it finally clicks. Oh? Tomorrow? Not what he had expected, then again, he's not really sure he expected anything at all. “Is that a threat Shizu-chan,?” He jests, forcing a half loaded grin to hide the plead in the second half of what was being played off as a joke, “Or a promise?” Questions hidden between lines of taunts and teases. He wonders for a moment if anyone would ever manage to figure him out without him having to explain. A sad thought, a lonely thought, who would bother, who could? A more ironic twist cracks the other side of his lopsided grin, after all, he made himself this way on purpose didn't he?

Shizuo stares back in confusion at the mystery of it all. He mostly didn't care what other people thought about. He thought he had them sorted into pretty proper categories but Izaya always managed to throw him for a loop. He stares and doesn't realize there's a bemused smile playing at his lips. He wasn't happy about this. Not in the slightest. This was an awful, time consuming, energy draining mess he had gotten himself into, caring about the flea. But it was so... new... and fascinating. Just to watch and observe Izaya. Just to listen to his words and watch his brain spin faster than shizuo's could ever hope to work. He'd known izaya almost half his life and yet, he didn't know him at all. Shizuo scoffed at himself for staring this long, for caring this much, for wondering what more he could discover about the flea. 

(What's your problem?! Stop acting like you like him or something!!) 

Shizuo strolls towards the door, pausing for just one more moment to let the situation sink in, before looking back over his shoulder and stating "both."


End file.
